


A Little Flip

by rebel_diamond



Series: Love on Ice [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, I really am trying to make them kiss but I can't stop thinking of ways to draw this out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebel_diamond/pseuds/rebel_diamond
Summary: Gold tries to transfer Belle's feelings for him to Gaston. Let's all take a guess on how that's going to go.Part of the Love on Ice series wherein disgraced ex-pairs figure skater Gold is hired to coach ice princess Belle and her partner Gaston to the Olympics. If Gold and Belle don’t kill each other first.





	A Little Flip

Her blade cut across the ice. If she so much as shifted her weight the wrong way, causing any snow, he was prepared to berate her. But she didn’t wobble an inch. She was just as poised and technically precise as always. Ah, to be twenty-one again and drink all night and still be up bright and early doing Salchows the next morning.

He, on the other hand, averted his eyes because the spins were making him dizzy. Last night, Belle made her ridiculous announcement about being in love with him. Afterward, he hid from her the rest of the night like a pubescent at his first party. He’d found the booze reserves in the kitchen and helped himself. After making sure Moe saw him hobnobbing, he swung back by the kitchen. Snagging a bottle for the road, he staggered back to his rented house and drank some more.

He’d tried to sober up, but the weak rinse this country called tea didn’t make a dent in his hangover. They were already on the ice running through the free skate when he’d stumbled in. They completed a twist and he almost retched.

He felt like hell. He couldn't focus. The lights reflecting off the ice sent sharp stabs to his brain. The screeching of violins emanated from the loudspeakers. If he had to listen to this bastardized version of The Police one more time, he was going to murder someone.

Her words to him echoed through his alcohol soaked brain. _You’re the most annoying person I know but I think I’m in love with you anyway._ _Think_ , was the key word there. She _thought_ she was in love with him.

That’s what this was about, he realized. He knew how lonely yet incestuous the skating community was. They barely got to meet anyone else besides other professional athletes. Skaters slept together, dated, and married. But a lot of these relationships were mistakes. His marriage imploding was evidence of that. That’s what this was. A young, lonely, impressionable girl who, at twenty-one, had certain...urges. She was looking for a safe place to expel them.

Fine. If she wanted someone to fall in love with, she had a perfect candidate right in front of her...her partner.

She’d fought him to play the part of a courtesan in their Moulin Rouge free skate program. But on the ice she was hardly even a flirt. She was a pristine skater, but she wasn’t a performer. This shortcoming was successfully masked up to this point by serious, formal routines. If they were going to succeed at the senior level and win over the judges, the free skate relied heavily of her playing a character. At this point, no amount of red lipstick was going to turn her into a convincing prostitute.

Ironically, he knew she was capable based on her conduct last night. The way she'd prowled down the hallway towards him, pinning him against the wall. She was magnificent. Confident and seductive and kissable. A far cry from the ice queen he got once she put her skates on. He'd observed her for months. Gold knew Belle was a person who couldn’t hide her true feelings, misguided or not. If it took real feelings to make her emote on the ice, that could be arranged.

In theory, transferring her feelings from him to Gaston shouldn’t be too difficult. Her partner was dumb as a brick, but Gaston was every woman Belle’s age’s dream. He was tall, dark, and handsome and able to lift her up with one hand. On the ice, Gaston’s size and power could sometimes overwhelm her petite frame. But it made for truly terrific, explosive throws. Despite being well matched, they had zero chemistry.

The music, along with the jumping and spinning, blessedly came to a stop. Technically, the performance was proficient. But the program component was barely off the ground. She’d choreographed the majority of the program herself. Yet Belle didn’t skate like she was committed. Unbalanced as it may be, skating focused on the female’s performance. By remaining upright, Gaston fulfilled his role as the handsome hero. In contrast, Belle’s performance needed depth and nuance. Right now she wasn’t playing the femme fatale, she was just "the girl". They each had to play their parts all the while looking like they were skating as one person.

Belle and Gaston broke apart from their final hold. Unsurprisingly, Belle scooped her water bottle off the sideboards and skated towards him. This would be the first time they spoke since last night. He had no interest in embarrassing her, if she remembered what she’d said to him at all. He’d made his own share of mistakes while drunk, and he decided to do her a favor and not hold it against her. He’d chide her as usual for her uninspired skating. Allowing her to fall back into her role as indignant pupil, all would be as it was.

She glided off the ice next to him. He surveyed her with practiced indifference, “Miss French, if you want-”

“You know what I want,” she asserted, looking him in the eye.

He blinked. So she hadn’t forgotten, or regretted, her words to him last night. A flare of panic rose in his chest. They could not go down this path together.

“An Olympic medal,” he filled in. “Because that’s what I’m here for. That’s the only thing I’m here for.”

The indignation that overcame her face. She looked passionate and at turns angry. She was still breathing heavily from the routine. It was perfect. Where was that fire out on the ice?

He peered across the ice at Gaston. He was scrolling through his phone. Completely disinterest in what his partner was doing. Gold sighed. You’d think spending sixteen hours a day skating together would be enough to bond a couple.

He glowered at the little girl in front of him. Her bouncy ponytail and her arms cross, she starred up at him nonplussed. As if she wasn’t taking him seriously. Unsolicited, the image of him taking that defiant chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting her head up, and kissing her overcame him.

He was going to shake this ridiculous notion out of her little head once and for all.

He raised his voice. “Both of you are off the ice for the rest of the day. Get changed. You’re going to therapy.”

***

Belle knew seeing a sports therapist was common for skating partners at this level. But she’d gotten this far on her skills alone. She couldn’t help but think Gold was sending them here out of spite.

If it was possible, he was even harder and less approachable after the party. She knew she had affected him. When she’d taken that last gulp of champagne and descended the stairs she saw the look on his face. It was like in the movies. Their eyes had locked and his mouth had opened just a little. But today he seemed to think she was a little girl who didn’t know her own mind.

“He should be the one going to therapy,” she grumbled as they approached the door. Yes, she’d been tipsy that night, but not enough to not know what she was doing. More like brave enough to go after what she wanted.

Gaston looked down at her, “What?”

She shook her head, as she knocked and entered. “Nothing.”

Dr. Archibald Hopper, sports therapist, had an office full of paintings and books, leather and dark woods. She and Gaston took opposite sides of the couch while Dr. Hopper (“Call me Archie.”) perched diagonal from them. Belle glanced at the chasm of space between her and Gaston. Was it bad they’d automatically sat as far away from each other as possible? Did it mean something? Would this be part of Dr. Hopper’s assessment of them? She scooted a little closer, pretending she was adjusting her skirt.

Archie cleared his throat. “Belle, Gaston, I hope you understand coming here doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. Think of it as a check-up for your relationship.”

Relationship? Belle had never thought of her and Gaston’s skating partnership that way. Maybe when she was sixteen and he’d kissed her a few times. Before he’d realized that the older females skaters were more willing to give him what he wanted faster and without emotional attachment. Five years later, she didn’t bear him any ill will. But they weren’t friends. More like work colleges.

“As you know, at this level you can’t just show up, skate, and go your separate ways. There must be constant communication. Do you think you are capable of that?” Archie looked between them.

Gaston shrugged, “Sure.”

Belle hesitated. How could he be so confident? Constant communication, with Gaston? They didn’t have anything in common. He thought it was weird how many books she read. She thought his zombie laden video games and horror movies were dull.

“Pairs skaters spend more time together than most married couples,” Archie continued.

Belle winced at the comparison. She imagined what her days spent as Gaston’s wife would be like. Watching him play video games and complimenting his manliness came to mind. She grimaced at the memory of her sixteen year old self’s diary with ‘Belle LeGume’ written in flowery cursive. That poor, clueless girl.

That wasn’t the type of marriage she wanted, if she thought about it at all. She pictured travel that didn’t consist entirely of ice rinks and gyms. Sharing books and ideas. Evenings spent inside and glasses of wine consumed slowly in front of a fireplace. It didn’t take much to picture herself doing those things with Gold. One glass of wine would turn into two. Which would lead to making out in front of the hearth. Him stripping off her clothes and making love to her by firelight.

Belle,” Archie’s voice brought her back to earth. “How do you know Gaston isn’t going to drop you?”

“History,” she answered, her cheeks coloring from the daydream. “He’s rarely dropped me.”

“I can tell by her body language if she’s going to fall,” Gaston broke in. “So I adjust my grip to catch her.”

Belle’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t know he paid that much attention. Belle assumed he only used brute strength. She didn’t think Gaston took skating as seriously as she did. The fact that he put any thought into it whatsoever was a revelation.

“Gaston,” Archie asked, “what’s your ultimate goal?”

Gaston sat forward, his hands on his knees. “To win,” he barked, making Belle jump.

Archie pivoted, “Belle?”

“Um,” she looked from Gaston to Archie and back. “To win an Olympic gold medal,” she recited automatically. She’d been saying the words since she was five. But for some reason this time they didn’t trip off her tongue as readily. She remembered Gold’s words at practice. That’s the only thing I’m here for. Did he really only think of her as a job he had to do?

Archie seemed pleased with her answer. “You both share a goal. In your instance, a mistake isn’t one of you forgetting to take out the trash, like most couples. It’s the difference between winning and losing. But if Gaston drops you or one of you falls, it’s not the end of the world. If I can give you one piece of advice,” he looked at both of them. “Never leave the ice mad.”

Ha! Belle laughed to herself. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d left the ice fuming at Gold. She had skate guards strewn about in every bag and corner of the rink. Because she never knew which direction she’d storm off the ice next.

“Think about the people you love,” Archie mused. “You can hate someone one moment, but you still love them the next.”

That was true, she thought. All the times Gold was rude and she was pissed off, she still came back, didn’t she? Not because she had to or because she took masochistic pleasure in fighting with him. But because he fascinated her. He brought out parts of herself she didn’t know she had, like assertiveness. It made her wonder what else he could bring out in her and what parts she could possibly bring out in him.

Archie scribbled in his notebook. “Another thing we’ll work on in these sessions is trust. If you don’t have the ability to trust yourself, you can’t trust anyone else.”

Belle trusted herself. She believed that, unlike the curly cues of a sixteen-year-old girl, her feelings for Gold were real and worth pursuing. But would he ever be willing to make that leap with her?

“Belle? Belle.” Archie’s voice came louder than before.

“Hmm?” She immediately realized they’d continued talking after she’d retreated into her own thoughts.

Archie looked at her concernedly. “Gaston had been sharing his feelings with you, but I get the sense you’re somewhere else.”

She looked helplessly between Gaston and Archie. Oh god, she’d failed therapy.

“You can’t hold back from one another,” he told her. “In many ways, this will be the most intimate relationship of your entire life.”

Belle frowned, sinking further into the couch. _Intimacy, marriage, trust, communication_. Did she really want those words to describe her relationship with Gaston? Did Gaston have to be the deepest relationship she’d ever have?

“What’s holding you back, Belle?” Archie persisted.

She felt the weight of their stares, their expectations of her. Along with the sting of Gold’s words earlier that day. The weeks of quietly struggling with her feelings and confiding in no one.

“I’m in love with somebody else!” she blurted.

Gaston gawked at her in astonishment. “Who?”

Belle fought the urge to hide her face in her hands. She wasn’t even telling her female friends about her infatuation. It felt strange to tell Gaston, her first and only kiss.

“Gold,” she admitted finally, her voice wavering.

He didn’t look horrified, like she expected, just dumbfounded. “Our coach?”

Belle searched for something to say. But her one syllable utterance hung heavy in the air between all of them.

Archie gaped at her. He opened his mouth. Then snapped it shut. He fiddled with his glasses. “I, uh, think that’s enough for today.”

***

“Belle?” Gaston peered down at her hesitantly as they left Archie’s office. He jerked his thumb at the door. “I know he said a lot of stuff in there. Things that we’re supposed to do. But...do you want to go to a movie?” The surprise must have shown on her face. “Doesn’t have to be a horror movie,” he added hastily. “Your choice. It’s just that we’ve never, ah, done anything, you know, as friends.”

She stood in the hallway and considered her partner. She’d shared with him her greatest secret and he hadn’t judged her. He didn’t point out the age difference between her and Gold. Or how it would make practices awkward. He’d just accepted it and moved on. Belle sensed that mabe she could confide in Gaston now in a way that she couldn’t with her other friends.

“Gaston,” she smiled up at him. “I’d love that.” 


End file.
